Just Once
by WildwingSuz
Summary: After “all things” Scully tries to pretend that their tryst was a once-only occurrence and Mulder learns the meaning of patience as he waits for her to come to her senses.


Synopsis: After "all things" Scully tries to pretend that their sleeping together was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence and Mulder learns the meaning of patience as he waits for her to come to her senses.

Timeline/Spoilers: Starts the day after "all things"

Author's Notes: I admit it, I'm completely fascinated with the scenario set up in "all things". The way you see Scully walk out in the opening sequence can mean so many things that I keep coming back to it. Did she leave a note? Did he know she left or did he just wake up alone? Did she do it because she was afraid of the intimacy of waking up with him? Gillian isn't talking (other than she admits that they slept together in the commentary), so we're left to our own devices on this one. Here is yet another take on it from me. I'm sure there will be more...

**Just Onc****e**  
By Suzanne L. Feld  
Rated R for adult situations and language

"Hey, good morning."

I looked up to see Mulder's smiling face above his usual impeccable suit and trench coat. "Morning yourself," I said, feeling a worm of nervousness inch its way into my stomach. _Ridiculous, _I told myself firmly. _ Nothing's changed. Last night didn't change anything between us and I'm sure he knows it._

"You left awfully early this morning," he said in a low voice as he walked past me towards the back of the office. "Everything all right?"

I took a deep breath, unable to stop myself from avoiding his piercing eyes as he went by. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

After reaching the back of the office, which we unofficially called the lab area, he turned and walked back taking off his London Fog, this time saying in his normal voice, "Just making sure I didn't--"

"Ssssh!" I hissed as he hung up his coat. "The walls have ears!"

"Oh, I get it," he grinned at me as he went over to the desk and sat down. "We'll play it straight while we're here. Gotcha, Scully."

I wanted to shake him but settled for a sigh and turned back to the screen of my laptop. But I couldn't concentrate on the field report I was editing, hyperaware of his every movement and afraid he'd say or do something revealing. But as the morning wore on my tension eased, especially when he brought me a coffee without comment from the first floor break room as usual since it was his turn to get the coffee this week.

We usually had lunch together when in the office but today I waited until he took his usual pre-lunch bathroom break and left without him, walking a couple of blocks to a new deli I had spotted on my way into work last week and was fairly sure he wasn't aware of. But once I got there I found that I wasn't hungry and despite the enticing smells of fresh-baked bread, pastrami, and grilled onions I only had a peach smoothie and got an apple to take back to my desk in case my appetite found me again.

When I returned, it was to Mulder's accusing eyes as I shrugged out of my coat. "Where'd you go, Scully?" he asked in a clearly hurt tone, and I had to turn away from those puppy-dog eyes. "If you didn't want to take lunch with me you could have just said so and not snuck out when I wasn't here."

I felt my temper rising but reminded myself of listening ears. "I didn't have lunch, I had to run to the bank," I lied, then held up the bag with the fruit. "I just grabbed a snack on the way back."

"Oh," he said, appearing to be mollified. "Well, then, I'm going to get myself something to eat. I waited because I didn't know where you'd gone to."

I didn't respond or look at him as he got his coat and left, though I could all but feel his eyes boring into me. This wasn't going the way I'd hoped; when I'd awakened in his bed at four a.m. I had swiftly realized what a mistake I'd made, and thought that by leaving as I had he'd get the message. But for once, just this once, it appeared that Mulder was going to be an optimist. Did he really think that we could be partners, friends, _and_ lovers? Just because I had made the mistake of falling—well, climbing—into his bed in a weak moment didn't mean it would ever happen again. So what if it had been the most intense, loving, and physically satisfying sexual experience of my life; that didn't mean it was meant to continue. I had to nip this in the bud and fast, I decided as I stared unseeing at the screen of my laptop.

But it wasn't to be. Just as Mulder walked in a half-hour or so later the phone rang, and it was Skinner wanting to see us in his office. Though I expected us to get chewed out for something, he actually congratulated us on the fast and thorough closure of both of our cases last week and mentioned a few things he had on a back burner for us.

As we left the elevator in the basement, Mulder's hand in the small of my back as always, a light bloomed over my head. "Mulder," I said back over my shoulder as we went out into the empty hallway, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said in a low voice near my ear. I ignored the shiver that went through me at the sound, for it was a strong reminder of how he'd sounded last night. "You just let me know when and where."

"Starkwether's, seven o'clock?" I said as I went to sit at my "desk", which was really just a small table I'd dragged in here to set my laptop on when I needed to work. I still did not have a desk of my own other than the 4th floor cubbyhole I never used anymore. "Meet me there?"

"I'll be there," he grinned at me as he went to his desk. I knew he wasn't going to be smiling tonight, but I hardened my heart and concentrate on what I knew was right, and I had to do.

***

"You're kidding me, right?" Mulder's shocked face stared at me over the flickering candle flame. "You _were_ there, right? You _are_ the same woman I made love with last night, not a Scully android or simulacrum dropped into my life by Reticulans?"

I sighed and looked back at him, exasperated. "Mulder, I--"

"Wait a minute," he said, leaning forward enough that I was afraid he'd singe his nose hairs on the candle flame and moved it aside. "Scully, I don't get this at all. We had an incredible experience together, you even admitted to me that it was all you'd dreamed of and more, so what in the hell is the problem?"

"The problem is _us_," I hissed back at him. "And anything I said in the... heat of passion... should be disregarded." I felt my face warming and looked down into my rapidly cooling cup of cappuccino. Our dessert dishes were pushed to the side, my crème brulee barely half eaten but his empty other than a few crumbs. Our entree dishes had looked the same before being taken away by our unobtrusive waiter. I was glad we had a secluded table half-hidden by a decorative screen and large potted plants so no one else had to witness this.

"No way in hell am I disregarding anything either of us said last night," he stated firmly. I still couldn't look at him and gazed down at the small white espresso cup between my hands. "Especially anything _you_ said. And you actually said quite a lot."

"It doesn't matter," I said almost desperately. "We'll--"

"Why is 'us' the problem?" he persisted, reaching over the table for my hand, which I moved out of the way and into my lap. He left his arm halfway over the table, gripping the edge. "Scully, nothing has to change that we don't want to. There's no reason that we can't continue to--"

"Yes, there is, and I'm giving it to you," I said, glancing up at him. The raw pain I saw in his eyes made my determination waver, but I shored it up with sheer will. "We'll tear each other apart, hell we'll tear our partnership apart if we stay lovers. I can't do it, Mulder. I can't watch everything that both of us have worked so hard for go down the drain in exchange for nothing more than having our itches scratched."

"Is that all it was to you, Scully?" he said in a very quiet voice.

This time I had to look up and hold his eyes, fortifying my steely resolve at the hurt I saw there. I wanted to lie and say yes, but I couldn't do it. "No, of course not, but that's what it would become," I said firmly. "Instead of chasing elusive leads and running down suspects and doing autopsies, we'd be bouncing in a cheap motel bed in Nowhere, Kansas. Our work will fall by the wayside and everything we've fought so hard for will have been for nothing."

He shook his head, dropping his eyes and moving his hand from the table on my side to rub his temple as if he had a headache. "I have no idea what to say to you now, Scully," he said in a heavy, defeated voice. "But let me make it clear that this is not what I want, and I'm deeply hurt and disappointed that it appears to be what you do. You're tearing us apart more right now than you seem to think last night did, which I still don't get at all."

"We can go back to the way we were before last night," I stated. "We don't have to forget it, but it can't happen again, Mulder. You caught me in a moment of weakness is all."

"Weakness?" he barked an unamused laugh. "So when you resist me it's a good thing, but when you decide to act human and let yourself love and be loved, that's weakness?"

"Why do you think I've fought getting involved with you all these years?" I snapped. "It wasn't because I'm not attracted to you, as you well know. Trust me, it hasn't been easy. It's because I don't want the last seven years to end up being nothing more than foreplay, and us getting laughed out of the Bureau when everyone finds out about us as I'm sure they will if we become a couple."

He snorted, but refrained from replying as the waiter came up and took the plates and asked if we needed anything else. When he set the check folder down I quickly grabbed it, saying hastily, "This is my treat, Mulder. I picked the restaurant--"

"My god, I never thought I'd get dumped like this, being bought off with a fancy meal in a nice restaurant," he said, staring at me with a thunderous frown. "When I remember what I was thinking on the drive over here... well, Scully, all I can say is that I'll do what you want, pretend when I'm near you that last night didn't mean shit, but we can't go back to the way we were. At least I can't. I hope this is really what you want, and that you're happy with it." He stood, threw his silken cloth napkin on the table, and stalked out of the restaurant.

A short time later I picked up both our coats from the rack near the front door and drove myself home. I had been successful with my plan, and I did my best to ignore the heaviness dragging at my heart and the depression that threatened to overwhelm me. If I cried a little in the shower when I got home, it was only to release the tension.

***

Two days later Skinner sent us out to assist with a night stakeout in Baltimore which was about the last thing in the world we needed, to be sitting in a car alone together for hours. Things were still very tense and uncomfortable between us and more than once I regretted what I'd had to do, but still didn't see that I had a choice. Mulder had been sullen and silent towards me since he'd stalked out of the restaurant Monday night, and I was at a loss how to heal the rift between us.

We'd been sitting silently in the pool Ford for about half an hour watching the back door of a warehouse when Mulder tilted his seat back, shrugged out of his jacket and mumbled, "Scully, could you wake me in about an hour? I didn't sleep much last night and want to grab forty winks. I'll return the favor if we're here that long."

Now this was like old times. "Sure," I murmured. I hadn't been sleeping well either lately and pushed away the thought of why. I had a small pair of binoculars and while he got comfortable I used them to study the warehouse we were staking out. This was a possible counterfeiting and money-laundering case we were assisting with, and we were to watch for an unmarked white panel van leaving and intercept if we saw it.

The dark sidestreet was quiet and deserted, although I knew there were three more cars with agents down the street and over on the next one where the warehouse's front doors were. I finally put the binoculars down and glanced over at Mulder, then did a double take.

He was sprawled out in the driver's seat, arms crossed above his head, legs stretched all the way out and face turned away from me. I could hear his deep and even breathing already even though it'd only been a few minutes since he'd laid down. He'd taken off his suit jacket and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, though it really wasn't that warm. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, tie hanging loosely, and I could just see the hair curling at his throat. The sides of his shirt were pulled out of his dark blue dress slacks and I couldn't help eyeing the strip of golden skin I could see above his belt on the right side. Unbidden, I recalled the memory of what it had felt like to wrap my legs around those hips, the sheer strength of him working against me, our sweaty skin rubbing against each other, kissing deeply the whole time, never having felt so loved and wanted in my--

_STOP IT! _ I shouted mentally. _That is _enough_,_ I told my suddenly-raging libido as I tore my eyes away from him. God, I got laid once in six years and it was like I'd never had sex with anyone else before. I was finding myself reduced to the level of a horny sixteen-year-old._ At least I don't have to wonder what he has anymore,_ I thought with a small smile to myself. That had been the subject of much thought before last Monday night, and his long fingers and big feet did, as legend had it, give a hint--

_Okay, that's enough, _I told myself sternly again. _ Act your age, Dana, and that's _well_ past sixteen. _ I raised the binocs and studied the warehouse again, but it was still just as dark and deserted as it had been ten minutes ago. I heard Mulder moving around but didn't look until he'd been still for a few moments. This time he had rolled partially on his side facing me, both hands under his face with his legs drawn up as much as he could manage in the seat. There was another strip of skin showing on this side above his pants, but it was his face I studied. Though the light was dim and only from a streetlight a good ten yards away, I really didn't need it to know what he looked like sleeping.

When I'd awakened in his bed I had laid there and studied his sleeping face thinking about what our being involved meant before I'd carefully gotten up without waking him. I'd always thought Mulder a good-looking man, but since that night I found him outright stunningly handsome—in fact even more for the irregularities of his features. Now I let myself study him in sleep, seeing how his forehead and brows were relaxed and eyes moving lightly beneath the lids showed how deeply asleep he was. His lips were parted, and it was all I could do to not lean over and kiss them; the impulse was so strong in me that I had to drop my hands to the side of the seat and dig my fingernails in. God, could that man kiss! He was never too rough or too sloppy or too anything other than arousing and sexy.

What in the hell was I thinking, I reminded myself sternly, cutting my eyes away. Just then I saw the warehouse door roll up and nose of a white van pull forward, and the walkie-talkie in the console between us squawked and I picked it up. Mulder came awake instantly, hitting the lever to pull his seat upright even as he started the car. "That's them, right, Scully?" he said as he snapped on his seat belt and the van drove away.

I finished with the radio and nodded. "That's the van," I agreed, hanging onto the dash as he squealed out of the parking spot with bare inches to spare. We joined two other unmarked cars in pursuit of the van and I felt my adrenalin rushing as always in the chase after the bad guy. These had no chance, being cut off by the car that had been on the other side of the warehouse and then surrounded by a half-dozen or more agents with weapons drawn.

Once they were in custody we were released and walked back to the car together. "Well, that didn't turn out too badly," I said, reaching over to make sure that my holster was snapped after I'd replaced my gun in it. "If you're too tired to drive, Mulder, I don't mind."

"No, I'm awake now," he said. "Want to stop and get something to eat on the way back?"

I glanced at my watch; it was just about ten o'clock and I was a bit hungry. "Sure, as long as it's not that greasy spoon over on Fourteenth," I said. "You may like their sweet potato pie, but the rest of their food isn't fit for human consumption."

He chuckled as we got into the car. "How about the Denny's over by your place?" he suggested. "Since you picked me up I'll drop you off, drive this beast home, then drop it off at work tomorrow and you can give me a ride home."

I was instantly suspicious, but decided I was being paranoid. This evening he seemed to be back to normal—or what passed for normal with Mulder—and I was, I hoped, acting like I had before we'd made our singular mistake. Well, not _exactly_ singular; one night, three times, I remembered with a silent sigh. That was a new one in my experience, a man who could--

"Scully? You still with me? Or did the thought of Denny's freeze you with terror unlike a fluke-man or vampire sheriff could?"

I looked up to see him gazing over at me, the car stopped at a red light. Those eyes...! "Sorry, guess I am a little tired. Yeah, Denny's sounds good."

The light changed and he faced forward, but I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from his profile. Jesus, _when_ had he become so damned attractive? And sexy, Jesus was he sexy. I had never really thought of him as sexy per se before our encounter, and now he was the epitome of it in my eyes. Even when he wasn't trying to be, he was. Would I _ever_ forget that night?! Why was it so damn difficult? With a force of will I didn't know I had, I pushed away the memory of him whispering that he loved me in the warm darkness as he--

Mulder seemed to be in a really good mood during our late dinner and I tried to match it, forcing back my wayward thoughts and trying to just see him as my friend and partner and not a former lover—hell, the best lover I'd ever had. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop remembering what his face looked like above and close to mine, the feel of his lips on my body, how strong his lean muscles were when he'd flipped us over and I'd rested my hands on his flat stomach and chest as I rose above him--

I wanted to groan and put my head in my hands when I realized where my thoughts had wandered off to, but instead I made myself come back to the present and listen as he told an amusing story about getting lost on campus his first days at Oxford. I managed to finish my entire grilled chicken salad although I hadn't tasted a bite, and it seemed that Mulder's appetite wasn't affected as he easily put away a Grand Slam breakfast.

We didn't talk much on the way to my apartment. I felt much easier with him, and beginning to be hopeful that things really could go back to the way they were. "Goodnight, Mulder," I said as I got out of the car. "See you in the morning."

He gave me another of those incredible smiles that, before tonight, I hadn't seen for days. "In the morning," he repeated.

I started across the street, then paused. "Want to come up for a cup of coffee?" I asked. "We did eat a lot and I don't want you dozing off behind the wheel."

He tilted his head. "Sure, if only to get you out of the middle of the street before you get squashed by a truck."

Once in my apartment, we both threw our coats over the back of the dining room chairs and Mulder wandered off as I went into the kitchen and started water boiling, pulling down a bag of coarse-ground Starbucks Sumatra coffee and my coffee press from the cabinet over the sink. When I turned back he was standing just behind me, leafing through my newest issue of _The_ _U.S. World News and Report_, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter. He had removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. As my eyes zeroed in on the dark hair curling at his throat I felt my body come alive with desire and I knew I was lost; I didn't even try to resist the impulse that took me over.

I reached back and shut off the stove then removed the magazine from his hands, tossing it on the kitchen table, and stepped into his arms. He looked startled for all of a microsecond, then our mouths and bodies were pressed together. I was still in my heels and had no trouble reaching him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to pull him to me. He all but crushed me against him and I reveled against the feel of him. I'd never say so to his face but God had I missed him, missed this, needed him, needed this.

Although my mind headed towards the bedroom, we barely made it to the couch leaving a trail of clothes across my apartment.

Afterward, sprawled on top of his long body I braced my arms on his chest and murmured, "Want to take a shower with me?"

"Mmmn, sounds good, but it's getting late and we should get some sleep—workday tomorrow," he said, running his hands down my sweaty back to let them rest on my bare bottom and reaching up to kiss me lightly.

I froze. Was he expecting to spend the night here?!

"And I should be getting home," he added, smiling up at me as he laid back. "Of course, I never did get that cup of coffee to keep me awake on the drive..."

I had to smile in return, relieved he wasn't going to make a scene. "That can be remedied. Just let me use the bathroom first..."

When I came out wrapped in my robe he was fully dressed, including his suit jacket with the tie hanging partly out of one pocket, standing at the door holding his coat. He'd even picked up my scattered clothes and put them on the couch. "On second thought, Scully, I'm just going to head home. Caffeine'll keep me awake longer than I want to be. See you in the morning, then?"

I walked to the door with him, feeling a little awkward and vaguely disappointed. After I unlocked it and moved back, opening the door, he leaned down and kissed me lightly on the lips, reaching up to caress my cheek with one hand and gazing down at me with shadowed eyes. Without another word he turned and walked away down the hallway, moving with his usual athletic lightness.

I managed to not think about him as I got ready for bed, but as I was drifting in the netherworld between awareness and sleep I found myself recalling tonight's lovemaking, remembering how tender yet strong he was, the way he looked at me and whispered love-words to me the entire time, how he had brought me to a pulse-pounding--

Sleep was a long time coming that night.

The phone on the nightstand woke me ten minutes before the alarm. "Scully," I mumbled into the cool plastic, blinking at the clock and wondering if it was right.

"It's me," he said with no preamble as usual. "Skinner just called and said we don't have to come in until later, and to just give him our report and we can have the rest of the weekend off."

"What does he mean, later?" I said groggily, already reaching for the alarm clock to turn it off.

"He didn't specify, but I'd guess sometime after lunch," Mulder's cheerful voice said. "I can meet you in the office about one, we'll type up our reports, and be free as little birdies after that."

"Deal," I said. "Dunno about you, but I'm going back to sleep."

"No, I'm up, I'm off for a run. See you later."

But after we hung up and I reset the alarm for ten, I couldn't go back to sleep. After a few minutes I heard the timed coffeemaker in the kitchen begin burbling and I went ahead and got up. Since I really had nothing better to do after reading the morning paper, I soaked in the tub for a while before showering and going though my usual routine, then headed into the office a half-hour early. On the way I stopped at a Starbuck's and got us each a coffee and scone, knowing that Mulder would probably skip lunch.

But as I approached the office door I saw it was open and once inside, found Mulder sprawled in his chair, gazing up at the pencils in the ceiling, and there was a large 7-Eleven cup and small donut bag on both his desk and my table. "Ahem," I said as I set a venti Sumatra and the Starbucks bag on the desk next to his monitor. "Is this a case of great minds think alike?"

He grinned up at me and I literally felt my heart melt even as I struggled to keep my face expressionless. "They should have us out running down suspects or doing the course at Quantico instead of sitting here typing reports after we polish off all this caffeine and sugar," he quipped as he reached for the cup I'd brought. "Thanks, Scully, I see _you_ sprang for the good stuff."

"7-Eleven has its place, such as when nothing else is open," I teased as I hung up my coat. Then I went to peek into the bag. "You do know me," I admitted as I pulled a chocolate-frosted cake donut from the bag. "I really shouldn't have this, I got us low-fat scones, but be damned if I can resist."

To my pleased surprise, the afternoon passed comfortably as we worked and after we'd dropped our reports on Skinner's assistant's desk and headed for the garage, I noticed that Mulder was limping just a bit. "Oh, I overdid it a little this morning on the track," he waved a hand dismissively when I inquired. "Pulled a muscle in my calf, but it'll be fine with a little Ben-Gay. I just didn't have time before coming in."

"You sure you don't want me to look at it?" I asked. "I don't mind, and better safe than sorry."

He shrugged as we left the elevator. "If you really want to," he said. "It's nothing serious, though. I did worse to my back last weekend on the flight from England trying to sleep in those cramped seats."

"You couldn't have told by--" I started, then clamped my mouth shut as we got in my car. I didn't dare look over at him as we headed for Alexandria, aghast at my slip. We were silent on the drive, then as we went to his apartment. The moment I got inside I knew this had been a mistake, but I'd insisted and had to go through with it now.

"Let me change and I'll be right back—make yourself at home as always," he said as he went into the bedroom and then closed the door behind him.

I sank down on the couch, kicked off my pumps, and put my head in my hands. Yes, it had been a mistake of monumental proportions to come here—just the smell of his apartment brought back that night, and I was buffeted from all sides with those memories on top of what we'd done last night. I'd had many fantasies about this couch, which would now not come true, but it didn't mean--

I looked over as he came out of the bedroom in a pair of gym shorts with a loose, sleeveless grey t-shirt hanging out over them, barefoot and tousle-headed. I felt my heart constrict but ignored it as I stood up, pointing to the desk chair. "Sit there," I instructed. "Where's your Ben-Gay?"

The eyebrows went up. "Bathroom," he said shortly. "Scully, you don't have to do anything but look at it. If needed, I can go to the emergency room as usual. I'm sure they've got my table reserved."

I ignored him, taking off my blazer and hanging it on the black metal coat rack before going to get the well-used tube of Ben-Gay and a hand towel and kneeling in front of the chair where he sat. I braced myself as I reached for his leg, but the warm skin didn't burn my hands nor make me leap on him. I set his foot on my knee, glad I'd worn slacks, and immediately felt the tight muscle and went to work, concentrating on what I was doing rather than whom I was doing it to. As I'd suspected, the muscle wasn't pulled, just tight and needed to be relaxed.

Some time later I looked up, wiping my hands on the towel after capping the tube of Ben-Gay and setting it aside. "That should do the trick," I said, getting to my feet. "How's it feel?"

"Like you replaced the muscle with a new one," he grinned up at me, flexing the leg. "You ever get tired of being a G-woman and want to go into therapeutic massage I'll be your first customer."

I couldn't help grinning back. "I prefer my patients quiet, still, and non-complaining, hence my specialization in pathology," I said pointedly.

He chuckled and stood as I went over and slipped my feet back into my shoes. "Well, thanks, Scully," he said, walking with me towards the door. "If I can ever return the favor, you... just..."

I stopped in the foyer near the coat rack within arms'-reach of my jacket and turned to face him, our eyes meeting as his words tapered off. Totally without thinking, the action taking me as much by surprise as it obviously did him, I reached up and grabbed him around the neck with both hands, pulling him down to me, and kissed him with open mouth and tongue seeking his. I hadn't thought about it, I didn't _intend_ to do it, but I was suddenly helpless in the grip of my own passion for him. He held me lightly with arms around my waist, kissing me back, but didn't pull me against him or make any move to take us back into the apartment. He was responding, but somehow I realized that I'd expected him to sweep me up in his arms and drag me off to the bedroom, and that wasn't happening as we slowly broke the kiss, our eyes opening simultaneously. I gazed up at his dark, shadowed eyes above me as our faces moved apart, but neither of us let go of the other though I moved my hands to his shoulders.

"What do you want, Scully?" he said in a low voice as he stared down at me with the most aroused and arousing look on his face I'd ever seen. "You're running this show; you tell me."

Instead of answering I kicked off my shoes, went up on tiptoe and pulled him down to me again, pressing my body to his. I had both hands in his hair holding his head to me, trying to tell him how much I needed him. I put everything I was feeling for him into that kiss, and after only a moment he groaned into my mouth and then crushed me to him as I'd expected the first time. When we finally came up for air sometime later I managed one word--"you"--and then we were moving towards the bedroom, stripping the clothes from each other, and I let myself ride along with the intense passion he generated in me and stopped thinking altogether.

We spent most of the weekend in Mulder's bed, not leaving his apartment at all, and by the time I went home Sunday evening I was so sore I actually had trouble walking and sitting was uncomfortable. A long, hot soak in Epsom salts helped a lot, but even after not getting much sleep over the past two days and being relaxed from the bath I had trouble dozing off that night. I had gotten used to a long, lean, warm body next to mine as I dozed off, more often than not holding me tightly against it.

But this couldn't go on and I knew it. Neither of us had spoken of love the last two times, though the first time we'd been together he'd whispered that he loved me several times. I dreaded the next morning's confrontation, but was steeled for it. We hadn't talked about anything more serious than what type of pizza to have delivered over those two days of almost-constant sex, and I knew he was going to want to sort things out between us considering this was the second time I'd jumped him after I'd told him it would never happen again.

But to my surprise Mulder was in rare high spirits when he wandered in a few minutes late Monday morning, admitting sheepishly that he'd forgotten to set his alarm. I kept waiting for the talk request, the thunderous frowns, and the sulking—but none of them ever came. He didn't bring up the past weekend with word nor look--nor did I despite the fact that I still wasn't walking quite normally and I suspected he was just as sore though he didn't show it. We had two meetings that morning, one with Skinner in his office regarding a new case and one at Quantico with the VCS about a possible consult, but I was so distracted during both I was damn glad I'd taken notes. Otherwise I wouldn't have had a clue as to what was going on when the meetings were over and we headed back to D.C.

We had lunch at the deli I'd snuck off to last week; I knew it was Mulder's kind of place and by the size of the heaping corned beef sandwich he inhaled, I was right. This time I managed to eat rather heartily as well, relieved that it appeared that he wasn't going to call me on the past weekend and demand we move in together or sneak off to Vegas and get married or something equally outrageous. He didn't even remark on how much I ate, which was usually a noteworthy thing if I had more than a salad or cup of yogurt.

The next two days passed about the same way, with us parting at the end of the day and not seeing each other until the next morning. Thursday morning the paperwork for Skinner's case came through and we flew to Kentucky that afternoon. This was a routine investigation regarding fertilizer sales and definitely not an X-file, but despite the grunt-work Mulder was still in a very good mood. Although still a little suspicious about it, I accepted his equilibrium and even enjoyed his high spirits.

After we checked into the usual flea-trap motel in Lexington courtesy of the Bureau's bean-counters it was almost six in the evening and I knew we wouldn't be going out to the Heinemann's farm until tomorrow morning. The flight hadn't been bad weather-wise, but we'd been delayed on the tarmac for almost an hour before taking off, the plane was jam-packed, we didn't get exit row seats with the extra leg room, and I felt rather grimy. I was mulling over soaking in a bubble bath versus a long hot shower when I heard a door slam nearby and went to the window to see Mulder slowly jogging away across the parking lot wearing the same shorts and grey t-shirt he'd had on when I'd massaged his leg last weekend. Just the thought of that brought back a flood of images and related feelings, and a bit of pique that he hadn't asked me if I wanted to run with him.

The exercise did sound good after the cramped flight and without thinking about it, I quickly changed into a sports bra and my brand-new blue and white jogging suit, threw my room key and badge into the zippered pocket, and ran to catch him. At the end of the motel driveway I looked around, spotting him just a block away. He had stopped for a red light, jogging in place, when I caught up with him. "Trying to ditch me again, are you, Mulder?" I said as I stopped next to him. "Since when don't you ask me if I want to go for a run with you?"

He shrugged, still jogging easily in place. "You rarely come along when I do ask, Scully. I didn't want to bother you, I thought you might be tired after that flight."

"I was considering a bubble bath, but it'll be even better after some good sweaty exercise," I said as the light changed and we started across the intersection. Those times that we did run together I knew Mulder held himself back so I wouldn't have to strain to keep up with him, but this time I stretched my legs to make _him_ work and we ended up setting quite a good pace towards downtown Lexington. When we reached the Rupp Arena we both slowed and paced ourselves around it, then headed for the coffee shop inside by silent agreement. Though it wasn't a hot day, we were both sweating and the coolness inside felt like nirvana.

We ended up walking back to the motel as Mulder had treated us both to extra-large iced teas and there was no way either one of us was finishing them anytime soon. When we got back dusk was just drawing down and I braced myself; before we'd slept together we'd often spent the evenings in each other's rooms just watching TV or talking, but I didn't think it was a good idea now. To my surprise, he just wished me a good night at our doors and went inside his room without so much as an eyebrow wiggle or look back.

I let myself into my room, nonplussed. What in the hell was going on? I was so used to his innuendoes and making it clear that he wanted to be with me that I noticed the lack of same. But both the first time and this past weekend--which I was desperately trying _not_ to think about--he'd made it abundantly clear without words how much he wanted me, and not just in bed. Or was that it? Despite my worries that he might get too attached and invade my personal and private space, it seemed to be just the opposite. He seemed fine now with us being just friends who apparently had sex occasionally, and come to think of it he hadn't said word one about any type of relationship since that night at dinner.

I felt my eyes narrow as I went into the bathroom and started my hot bath, putting the half-full iced tea on the sink where it would be within reach from the tub. Was he pulling reverse psychology on me? Or was he just doing what I'd asked? I had to admit, he hadn't started the sexual incidents—ever. No more than innuendoes and compliments since we'd known each other, I realized, and the two kisses but nothing more than that. _I_ had initiated our sexual encounters, especially the first time. Once we were _in_ bed all bets were off—it didn't seem to matter who started or did what. But before... I was catching on and wasn't sure I liked it.

My head and neck were aching as I undressed and, leaving my sweat-soaked jogging suit and underwear on the floor, climbed into the hot bath scented with my favorite sandalwood oil. I forced myself not to think about anything as I soaked my tense muscles away, sinking in up to my chin and letting my knees poke out of the water. I stayed in the tub until my fingers were prunes and the water was tepid, not climbing out until I had to. I vowed not to think of Mulder for the rest of the evening; tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with him. I had a brand-new hardcover copy of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" in my suitcase to replace my worn, much-read old paperback and that would be my only companion tonight.

But, of course, no sooner had I dried off and put on my pajamas than there was a knock on my door. _ Gee, wonder who_ that _could be, _I thought sarcastically as I went over to the door without even reaching for my robe. A glance through the peephole confirmed it and I opened the door to Mulder's hopeful face. "Before you get mad, Scully, the shower in my room is broken so can I use yours? I promise I won't stay a moment longer," he said in a rush. I noted that he had a white hotel towel thrown over one shoulder and carried folded clothes in his right hand.

I opened the door wider and waved him in. "And I'm sure there's a good reason you can't get maintenance to fix it?"

He snorted as he walked past me. I got a whiff of his honest, clean sweat and it immediately brought my body to attention; this was the exact same arousing scent that I knew from when we were in bed together. I clamped down on those thoughts and ignored the sudden feeling of dampness and fullness between my legs as I nonchalantly walked over to the bed, rather dismayed at my sudden and intense physical reaction. He said something that I totally missed, and then the bathroom door closed behind him.

I sat on the edge of the bed, closed my eyes, and gripped the cheap spread with both hands like I had the car seat to stop myself from following him in there. But by the time I heard the shower stop I had gotten control of myself and was sitting on the bed, comfortably propped against the headboard on two pillows, book open on my knees.

I couldn't help looking up as the bathroom door opened and Mulder walked out dressed only in a pair of low-riding grey sweatpants, toweling his hair. I swear my heart stopped as I ran my eyes over his dark-haired chest and lean torso, my eyes following the line of dark hair across his slightly convex abdomen down to where it disappeared, watching as the muscles in his arms bulged. He tossed the towel back into the bathroom and started to pull his t-shirt over his head, but it stopped mid-chest as my hands were in the way. Our eyes met, held, and then he slowly leaned down as I reached up and almost before I knew it, we were tangled together kissing on my motel bed. I honestly didn't remember moving, I wasn't even sure where my book had gotten to, but there was no way I could stop now.

He slowly broke the kiss, laying beside me with our legs entwined. "Scully... we _are_ on a case," he mumbled, leaning down to push the material of my satin pajama top aside with his nose and nibble along my collarbone with both gentle teeth and firm lips as one hand moved to fiddle with the buttons. "Think we should be doing this here?"

I had pulled his shirt off before he'd gotten it any further on and now ran my hands over his bare muscular back and chest. "Probably not, but do you really want to stop?" I asked, feeling him begin to kiss down the center of my chest towards the V of my pajama top.

"Don't know if I _could_ stop outside of you putting your gun to my head, but I thought I should mention it," he said against my skin as the satin parted and he pushed it away to bare my breasts. I lifted my head to watch then let my head fall back, my neck suddenly boneless as the pleasure of his touch spread through me like warm quicksilver.

"You're doing the right thing in considering it," I breathed. "Consorting... against the rules...."

"Oh yeah, we're consorting all right," he said with amusement in his voice. "I'm going to consort with you until neither one of us can walk again."

A phone rang. We froze and Mulder lifted his head, gazing at me with startled eyes. "Ignore it," I pleaded, but he rolled away from me.

"Can't, could be important," he said shortly in a clearly annoyed voice, getting up and looking around. "Shit, whose room are we in?"

"Mine, I think," I said, sitting up. The phone rang again and my brain cleared enough to recognize it as my cell and I grabbed it from the nightstand. "What!" I barked.

"Agent Scully? I'm trying to reach Agent Mulder, do you know where he is?"

"No, sir, I haven't seen Mulder since we got to the motel," I flat-out lied, gazing at the impressive tent in the aforementioned agent's sweat pants. I normally wasn't the world's best liar, but these were special circumstances. "Maybe he went out for a run or a drink or something, he does that sometimes after a long flight."

Skinner's voice was doubtful. "I didn't think that was such a long one. Would you check his room for me?"

"Certainly, just let me get my robe on, I was in bed read--"

"Never mind, then, it's not that important. Sorry if I woke you. I can talk to him in the morning—when you see him would you pass along the message to turn his damn cell phone on and call me?"

"I'll do that, sir," I said before disconnecting and snapping the phone shut. Looking up at Mulder, who was standing midway between the bed and the door, I added, "As you probably guessed, that was Skinner. He said for you to turn on your damn cell phone and call him in the morning."

Mulder shook his head. Despite being clearly undaunted he said as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, "This probably isn't a good idea, Scully. At home is one thing--"

I stared at him, aghast, still sitting on the edge of the bed with my pajama top hanging open and body screaming for more. "Are you _kidding_ me? You could just go back to your room and go to sleep, leaving us both like this?"

He looked back at me with naked passion on his face. "I wouldn't sleep," he said in a raw voice, then his shoulders slumped and he came over to the bed, sitting heavily next to me. To my surprise he reached over and took one of my hands in both of his, saying, "I have a confession to make, Scully. The shower in my room isn't broken, I just had to see you again tonight. I wasn't trying to... seduce... you, I didn't think we'd do anything while in the field. I should have known, though, lately when we're alone together..."

I nodded, squeezing his hands. "I know. I seem to lose my inhibitions and objections when I'm close to you." I wasn't upset at his confession, because he'd been doing things like that since the day I met him. Besides, I had suspected it anyway.

"I've never had any with you, Scully," he said, leaning sideways and kissing my shoulder through the satin. "I've only been waiting for you to let go of yours with me."

"Really?" I sat up straighter and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I've been holding back and letting you make the decisions where we go from here." He gave me a lopsided smile. "Now I'm hoping you'll want me to stay even if we know I shouldn't."

Something inside me snapped at his plaintive words. No matter how hard I'd worked to keep my distance from him emotionally, I suddenly knew I had failed. Completely. And I couldn't lie to myself or to him any longer. "Oh, God, Mulder, I don't _ever_ want you to leave me," I said, turning and throwing my arms around his neck. "This is one of the worst ideas ever, us being involved, right up there with letting Bill Clinton meet Monica Lewinsky, but no matter how wrong I know it is I can't help it. I love you, Mulder. I have for so long and I can't deny it anymore."

His arms came around me in return and he held me tightly, one large hand wrapped around my waist and the other cupping the back of my head over my hair as I buried my face in his neck. "I never thought I'd hear that from you," he said in a wondering voice close to my ear. "It was so difficult to not say it last weekend, I think about how much I love you every moment we're in bed together and much of the time when we're not." He leaned back and cupped my cheek in one hand, smiling down at me in a way I'd never seen before—he looked like a carefree boy, hazel eyes shining, beaming with happiness. I was so close I could see the green rings around his iris, surrounded by light brown, in the light of the bedside lamp. "I love you, too, Scully, and I have for a long time as well. And our being together isn't wrong in any way, shape or form—no matter what the FBI may say on the subject. We'll keep this to ourselves; it's no one's business but ours, and stay professional in all other areas. That sound good to you?"

"Can we spend most of our bed-time at my apartment?" I smiled back at him, reaching up to trace the arch of his eyebrow with my thumb, fingers on his cheekbone. "I promise to keep the fridge well-stocked."

He laughed, then leaned down and kissed me. "Anything you want, Scully, anything at all."

I leaned back, letting my smile fade as I gazed up at him. "Then why don't you start things this time," I said silkily. "You've let me take the lead every other time—I want to know what it feels like to have _you_ start with _me_." I glanced down, seeing that the tent-pole was still well in evidence.

He groaned, eyes widening slightly. "Just do what _I_ want to do? How I'd seduce you into my bed?"

"Yeah," I said. "Show me your stuff, G-man."

"With pleasure, and then some," he leered at me, then his expression changed to serious and aroused. He stood and tugged me up with him, then pushed the pajama shirt off my shoulders and, as it dropped to the floor, tugged on the bottoms. They fell and he knelt and removed them from my bare feet as I lifted each in turn. "You're one of those all-too-rare women who look better naked than dressed," he said in a husky voice, standing and moving back a couple steps to push off his sweats, his eyes all but devouring me as he kicked them away. "Jesus God, Scully, you are absolutely stunning."

My heart melted; no one had ever looked at or spoken to me like that before. It was all I could do to stand still and wait for him; I wanted to throw myself physically at him and knock him over onto the bed and jump on him. But I waited, curious to see what he'd do. Without touching me anywhere else he took my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me, all but devouring my mouth with his. That kiss told me everything I needed to know if I hadn't already; how much he loved and desired and respected me, wanted me with a passion that matched mine. Once again I found myself pressed against him, bare body to bare body; as with the other times I didn't remember moving but when we came up for air, there we were. My arms were wrapped tightly around his lean waist, breasts crushed to his strong chest, his hands still holding my face, dark eyes blazing down into mine and hiding none of his desire. "That's all it takes--you look at me, barely touch me, and I'm yours," I admitted in a husky voice that barely sounded like myself, gazing up at him with our lips barely millimeters apart. "I have been for so long I don't even remember when I first fell in love with you."

"I know what you mean," he breathed, letting go of my face and wrapping his arms around my shoulders to hold me close. He rested his forehead against mine and murmured, "I can't imagine my life without you, Scully. Even if we never made love again I have to be with you, but if given a choice..."

I couldn't resist chuckling to lighten the mood a bit, running my hands up and down his corded back, feeling the strong muscles quivering beneath my touch, just waiting for the next step. Or so I imagined. "I'm not giving you a choice," I said firmly if a bit breathlessly, beginning to get impatient but wanting to keep my promise to let him run things this time. "Didn't you say something earlier about consorting until we couldn't walk?"

He groaned and turned us so that my back was to the bed, urging me back and when I sat, said, "Scoot on up there, Scully—no feet hanging off this time." I knew he was alluding to our tryst on his black couch last weekend, which was not wide or long enough for the things we'd attempted to do on it. Trying had been fun, though.

I moved back, turning to sit the right way in the middle of the full-sized bed and waiting to see what he'd do—again. Slowly, deliberately, he got on the bed on hands and knees and crawled up to me, and I laid back as he did so. "I'd like to take my time making love to you, kissing every inch of your incredible skin until you're hoarse from screaming my name, but I can't wait that long," he said huskily, kissing me as he rested the weight of his body on mine

I fisted my hands in his hair, pulling his face to mine for another long, deep kiss as he made love to me. I had never felt so wanted, cherished, loved, and needed in my life as I did at this moment and I never, ever wanted it to end.

But end it had to, eventually. Afterward his body was limp on mine, pressing me deliciously into the mattress, panting against my neck. Slowly he lifted himself up on his elbows, head still on my shoulder and our chests heaving against each other.

We lay there until our breathing slowed to normal. "I don't want to move," he murmured against my neck, kissing and lipping at it, causing me to shiver. "Cold?"

"No," I sighed, brushing my face against the side of his. "Only happy and content, at long last."

"Good. And I plan to keep you that way," he said, lifting his head and smiling softly down at me as he brushed strands of my hair out of my face. "It's a hell of a job, but someone's got to do it."

I chuckled, smiling back up at him, lacing my fingers around the back of his neck. "Oh the hell of your life," I said dryly, then pulled his head down for a kiss that lasted for some time. "Let's get some sleep," I said as he rolled to the side then immediately gathered me against him. "We've got a long, boring day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he hugged me against his side. "We've still got a lot of tonight left. If you can still walk I haven't done my job right."

I chuckled and shook my head. "You don't have to try and cram everything into one night anymore, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere—and neither are you."

He turned his head to gaze at me with the most loving look I'd ever seen on anyone's face, showing me yet again how he felt about me. Even if I'd still wanted to, there was no way I could resist him. "You just keep reminding me of that," he said as he urged me up on top of him.

I felt my body respond as I lay on top of him, sinking my fingers into the dark hair over his ears and pulling his face to mine. Against his lips I whispered, "Every day, Mulder, every single damn day."

_finis_


End file.
